The stone age

Every child is born into the stone age; predisposed to nothing, naked, dependent upon the cloth and the nipple. They speak the language of hunger and want with gurgled grunts and random howls. They age, and the bedrock sinks deeper: flesh and memory spun together in a primitive weave. Words are flash-frozen, and the mired conceits bear anger and pleasure and the twisted knot of both and neither, complex carbon desires, the raw veneration of self. There is an ache for meaning for something unknowable, primitive but blood deep. These years are set in stone: the poison tongues that whisper jealousy and judgment, the ruthless blackguard, the denigrating conversations. Set in stone until the stone is set upon them.

***a work-in-progress**

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12 thoughts on “The stone age

  1. So powerful, Steven. This struck me on many levels – our essentially primitive natures, and how the early (even pre-verbal) experiences of our youth become etched in our psyches for our whole lives. The weight is ponderous. Well done. I can’t wait to read it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Diana. The theme has weighed on me for quite some time. The aging process, I suppose, and trying to distill to something recognizable. What better place to begin than childhood? πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I used to work in mental health with children under 5. It’s amazing and frightening how much of who we are is determined during those early years – followed by the teenage years. It seems to take a lifetime to sort it all out.

        Liked by 1 person

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